lost in a static
by Miss Mila
Summary: AU Drabble Set - Haymitch's name is drawn for the Third Quarter Quell, and the rebellion seems a little more real. Hayffie-centered.
1. it's who we are

A/N: Something that came to me, spur of the moment. Hayffie drabbles centered around the theme of Haymitch entering the 75th Games instead of Peeta. Unbeta'ed. Cross posted from AO3

Song and chapter titles from the song "Who We Are" by Imagine Dragons (a song on the Catching Fire soundtrack!).

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"Haymitch Abernathy."

Her voice does not betray her emotions and he suppresses a smile, briefly forgetting the severity of the situation in exchange for a fierce swelling of pride. He smirks to think of the Capitol citizens viewing the Reaping from their living rooms – the Capitol that is her home and whose essence she reflects; but they do not know her. No, he thinks. They do not know her. But he does. He, who has mastered her facial expressions and memorized the muscles that twitch under her porcelain skin—he who has spent the better portion of a decade watching Games which left her gasping, reaching for his hand and then hastily remembering her surroundings and withdrawing (her hand, her emotions, herself), he who has watched her school her features and adopt that Capitol trill when the situation called for it – he knew her. And he recognized the tightening of her lips and the flicker in her eyes before she waited for him to ascend to the platform.

She did not smile, and that was strength enough for him to slowly climb the stairs and stoically stand next to her.

Effie Trinket did not smile, and that was the first time the rebellion felt real.


	2. we were never welcome here

She is the one to visit him in the holding room first.

Of course, he thinks, standing up at her entrance. She is paler than her makeup would suggest, more nervous and angry and upset than her demeanor would imply. She wrings her hands in front of her – this was not on her schedule, this was not something she planned. She has no clipboard, no cue cards, no speech. She moves as if to flit toward him, but stops herself suddenly and lands back into place, exercising the Capitol restraint he'd grown to appreciate.

Not today.

"Effie," he chokes out – surprised at the emotion in his voice. She is not. And for once, she is silent. She lunges into his arms and he hugs her fiercely.

"I don't know what kind of deal you made with Peeta," she whispers harshly into his ear, her nails cutting into his shoulder, "but you better make it out of there alive, too."

"That's the plan, sweetheart," he growls lowly. "You stick with Peeta, do you understand me?"

She kisses him then, hard and feeling and so un-Capitol that the force of it (quite literally) hits him. He kisses her back without apprehension.


	3. if we've gone too far

Peeta is a better Mentor than she expects, though she is unsure why she would ever think the boy with the bread incapable of the task. He is calm and collected, and she briefly wonders if Haymitch bothered filling him in on whatever the grand plan will be; he is no mockingjay – he is not necessary to the survival of the rebellion.

She knows. She isn't either.

She is not made of rebel material, but the Capitol that is woven through her DNA, through the very fiber of her being, is asset enough. It is not only Snow who has ears everywhere, after all. She has never been oblivious to her surroundings, not as much as she's appeared to be – not as much as she's been raised to be. She understands the implications actions have, and has always understood that deviating from the norm set by those at the top of the chain would bring trouble.

She also understands that the Districts fail to comply with that memo – by choice.

The winds of change have long since been blowing – since that fateful day when Cinna stood in front of the Gaming Committee and asked to be assigned to District 12, perhaps earlier. His words were "I have a plan," and only now does she understand that the meaning of those words lay deeper than the sketches he held in his hands.

She thinks of Haymitch, ablaze with fire, and hopes Cinna was right.


	4. out with the reason

A/N: Thank you for those of you that have read and supported this little story up to this point. I'm finding a story written in drabbles so much easier to write than one that involves planning and chapters - though maybe you've noticed that these drabbles seem to be getting longer; whoops - and for this reason you're getting more updates than I'd usually be able to do. Enjoy! (Unbeta'ed).

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"He told you not to volunteer for him, didn't he?" She asks it because she does not understand. She thinks that the whole situation is completely out of character, and unlike Haymitch and unlike Peeta. Effie has made her living out of understanding people – she is not wrong.

Peeta's mouth is a tight, drawn line. "I'm trying to give Katniss her best chance, Effie." He is anxious, nervous – he is pleading. He cares as little about the rebellion as it does about him.

"And you believe Haymitch is the best way to do that?"

He blinks. "Yes." He is lying.

And she understands. Peeta has a gift of understanding people, too. And he understands that he was never meant to survive – that Haymitch chose her over him – and he understood that early on, and did his best to make sure the plan went on as it should. And that's what he was doing now.

"Look, Effie…Haymitch has a plan, he always does. And it doesn't make sense for the two of us to go in blind, when he can go in there and hopefully get her out okay."

She tenses at his words, wary of any flies on the wall that might carry his words to the Capitol. But then she relaxes – even now, Peeta is playing the part of self-depreciating lover, admitting that Haymitch's experience lends itself to some sort of plan at survival.

Effie understands that Peeta was never pretending.


	5. when the birds get back to me

A/N: Thank you for all the continued support for this story! I'm really pleased that you all think I'm doing Haymitch and Effie justice - it's such a new field for me to navigate. Anyway, this chapter is once again unbeta'ed, and named after a line from the song "Who We Are" by Imagine Dragons. This is a scene inspired by a post on Tumblr - also, a bit of a disclaimer, because I haven't read Catching Fire in over a year, so this entire fic is a product of what details I can remember from reading the book and watching the movie (which wa c).

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She does not watch the Games with Peeta as she did with Haymitch – she can't. Whereas Peeta is thinking of strategy and survival and dutifully taking sponsor calls and looking for hints as to what Haymitch and Katniss may need in the arena, she is worrying.

She itches for his proximity and his stoic reassurance and for once she wishes he were next to her so that she could hold his hand. She wishes she'd gone through with it in the past. She wishes she'd done a lot of things she never had the nerve to do.

"EFFIE!"

Her heart stops in her throat and she turns around the room – it's his voice – it's Haymitch and he's screaming her name and –

"HAYMITCH!" – and it's her voice, too.

Her eyes are wide and her mind cannot process what is going on and – "Jabberjays," Peeta says quietly. "It's – they've stolen your voice." He looks at Katniss and a muscle in his jaw twitches. "And Prim's."

Katniss is shooting arrows blindly, screaming for her sister. She notices the birds, and Effie sees the recognition flash across her face. She makes a run for Haymitch, and is thrown backwards by the force of an invisible field, separating her from him.

She cannot bear to look at Haymitch. His eyes are glazed, like when his nightmares have him back in the arena – but this time it's real, and he thinks she's in danger and –

With dread, she sinks down next to Peeta, blindly grasping for his hand. She is sick to her stomach, and her vision blurs as Haymitch sinks to the ground and curls in on himself. "It's not real, it's not real, it's not real." The mantra is a chant, one he repeats with his eyes screwed shut and his hands clapped over his ears, and he looks terrified and upset and so _guilty _that Effie can tell that he doesn't believe it.

She cannot shake the feeling that the scene playing is nothing compared to the events to come.


	6. down in the king's lair

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's still keeping up with this little ficlet! I'm so glad you're enjoying it enough to stick around. This is the last drabble that I already have written out - more will definitely follow, but I cannot definitively say when, as the spring semester just started and I'm a bit busier than I expected.

Disclaimers - unbeta'ed, title of the chapter from "Who We Are" by Imagine Dragons.

* * *

The arena is taking its toll on him, she can tell.

She sees the white of his knuckles as he clutches his knife to him, even in his sleep. She knows he is scared that the reality of the arena will wake him, swinging his blade – hurting Katniss or Finnick or Johanna. His friends.

His mouth is drawn in a tight line, and she can tell his jokes and light talk are all forced, though the cameras and the Capitol eat it up like candy. She is disgusted by the Games footage in a way she has never been before.

This is not Haymitch. This is not the Haymitch she knows (and dare she say it –loves?).

They are twisting his image and his words and she knows all of Cinna's and Caesar's and maybe even Plutarch's work is paying off because the crowd is loving it and the sponsors are flowing in and she just wants to scream.

Her Haymitch is dark and sarcastic and drinks and hates the Capitol and sometimes her and mostly himself. Her Haymitch is everything the Capitol cannot stand and the two of them don't make sense but she has never missed him as fiercely as she does now.

She closes her eyes and prays he makes it out of there alive.


End file.
